I am walking through the meadow. As I travel to the place where I know he will be waiting for me, I reach out my arms and allow the soft bristles of the surrounding grasses and the petals of the wildflowers to brush up against me. My heart is light and fluttery in anticipation. Like a butterfly, I think to myself. Soon enough, I spot his blond head, and I find him sitting on the very same rock where he confessed his love to me once before. He sees me too, so he stands up and smiles his sweet smile. I return the gesture with a smile of my own and approach him so that I can see his blue eyes. They are twinkling and full of love and life and light.

"Hey," he says gently.

"Hi," I reply. He reaches out to touch my cheek with a special softness that could only come from Peeta. After we spend a few moments in silence, waiting, I decide the distance between us is too great, so I pull myself toward him, hoping that he will hold me. He does. I am amazed at how perfectly I am able to fit into him. He threads his fingers through my hair as I listen to the rhythm of his heart beating. Then, suddenly, he pulls back a few inches and looks at me. I can see him taking it all in. Me. And him. Together. It's what he's wanted since kindergarten. I'm happy that he is happy.

His eyes are radiating love. I am not sure what to do. My heart is beating faster and faster and faster, and if something doesn't happen soon, I am sure that I will explode or faint or spontaneously combust. A moment later, his eyes drop to my lips, and I become very aware of the heat that is engulfing every part of me. He begins to inch closer. So do I. I realize that I might not have wanted this as long as he has, but in this moment, I do want this as much as he does. We are so close that I can feel the warmth of his breath and skin. I close my eyes in anticipation, and then—

"Katniss!" I hear a voice calling my name. "Katniss! Wake up! We are going to be late if you don't hurry up!"

I open my eyes to a blurry blonde blob shaking my shoulder. It takes me a few moments to adjust to the brightness of the room and my surroundings, and I realize I was only dreaming. I am at home. I overslept. Prim pries the covers off of me, and I shiver as the crisp morning breeze blows through the open window and meets my exposed skin. We still have a few weeks before fall begins to take over completely, but the mornings and late evenings are slowly beginning to cool.

Since I didn't wake up in time to go hunting, I realize that I must have been really tired. With all this confusion stemming from Peeta and Gale and how they feel about me and with my own bewilderment as to how to react to their feelings, my mind has not had much rest. Not to mention the extremely realistic dreams I have had the last couple of nights. In most of these dreams, I am with Peeta in the meadow or the woods or at the lake where my father used to take me. But I always wake up before anything really intense happens. This is a good thing because I'm already confused enough as it is. The last thing I need is to wake up remembering kisses with Peeta. I'm not even sure how or why I'm having these dreams about him. I just try to forget. Every morning I wake up and push thoughts of him to the back of my head.

It never works, though. He always finds his way back to the front.

I sit up, yawn, stretch, and begin my morning routine with more speed than usual. Prim is already dressed and fed, and she stands impatiently at the door, tapping her foot, as I throw on my pants and a shirt and braid my hair to the side. I look at her, amused. She is always so punctual.

"Sorry, Prim. I don't know why I've been so tired," I explain.

I finish getting ready in great time. I must have broken some sort of personal record. I grab my stuff for school and a piece of Peeta's bread for breakfast and head out the door. 

"Bye mom!" Prim waves to our mother as we cross to the street and begin our journey to the schoolhouse.

As soon as we are alone, Prim initiates the conversation.

"Katniss?" she inquires.

"Hmm?" I respond. Once again, my mind shifts from thoughts of the boy with the bread to the present. Why can't I just think normal thoughts like I used to? Thoughts about hunting and the Hob and providing food for my family.

"Is there something going on with you and Peeta?"

I'm stunned. Her words have suddenly caused an inexplicable panic to rise inside me. Is it that obvious that he likes me? Or is it something I've let slip that has given it away? "No!" I exclaim with a little too much force. "Why would you say that?! Really, Prim, I thought we already talked about this!"

"No. We talked about you and Gale. I'm asking about Peeta. And I was wondering about it for several reasons. First off, we keep getting all this fresh bread delivered to our doorstep every day; then, I sometimes hear you talk about him in your sleep, and I always see him watching you when we walk home from school."

"Oh." I feel heat rise to my cheeks. Shit. Now I'm blushing. Who the hell am I anymore? She says that she hears me talking about him in my sleep. What do I say about him? As my mind remembers some of my dreams of late, I can feel my face turning a deeper shade of red. 

I don't know what to say to Prim, so I just tell her. "I don't know. He told me he likes me a few days ago, but I told him I didn't feel the same." I leave out the part that he's liked me since we were five.

"But now you're not so sure, are you?" She raises her eyebrows along with the corners of her mouth, amused.

"No—I mean—yes—I mean—I don't know..." I sigh, defeated. I really don't know. If I was sure, I don't think I'd be dreaming and thinking about him so much. Things would be as they always were. Why does this boy have such power over me after one day in the meadow?

"I think you know more than you think you do," she smiles, and we walk the rest of the way to school in silence. I'm grateful because I need to sort through all of this. I need a plan.

When we make it to our destination, we split up and head to our different classrooms. In her wake, I am once again astounded by her wisdom.

As I walk in, I immediately search for Peeta and discover that he is already looking at me. I look away as soon as my grey eyes meet his blue ones, and I feel redness creep into my cheeks again as I find my seat a few desks away from him.

"Hey, Catnip!" I hear in a whispered tone from behind me. Gale.

"Hey." I whisper back, and turn to the front as Mrs. Aspen takes roll.

"I missed you this morning. Is everything okay?" He continues. I'm sure he was worried about me because I rarely miss hunting in the mornings. He sometimes can't make it during the week because of his younger siblings, but I am usually always in the woods by sunrise.

"Yeah. I overslept on accident. That's all," I respond.

The lecture begins, and I find myself thinking of all the ways I could start up a conversation with Peeta. I could run into him or drop my books near him or I could hang back after class. But why should I? I already told him I don't like him back. Though, we do need to talk about this whole bread situation again, don't we? Yeah. That's it. I'll talk to him about the bread.

What about Gale? What if Prim was right and all the changes I've noticed are in fact signs of his love for me? How can I express that we are just friends? Well, I guess I should just do what I've always done. I've always only seen him as a friend or a brother, so I shouldn't have to do anything differently. After all, if he does love me, that's his decision to take that risk.

The bell rings.

Damn. I never decided how I was going to approach Peeta. Quickly, I make up my mind to hang back in the classroom and try to start up a conversation. Gale tells me goodbye; he has to go pick up his brothers and his sister from their classes just like I do with Prim. I fumble with my papers a bit longer than usual.

"Hey." I hear a voice coming from right behind me. I spin around and find Peeta Mellark standing there.

"Hi," I reply with a slight smile. I'm blushing again. He bends down to pick up my pencil—which had rolled off my desk as I gathered my things—and hands it to me.

"I wanted to ask you something," he begins sheepishly. "I—umm... I know that you explained your feelings to me the other day, and I understand and respect that, but I was—I've been thinking... I still would love to get to know you more as a friend. How would you feel about that?"

"Yes," I say, and I get frustrated by the eagerness that escapes in the tone of my voice as I speak. "I mean—I would like that."

"Really?" I watch as his eyes light up, and I can tell that a flicker of hope has settled in his heart. I don't know if realizing this makes me feel happy or scared or guilty or amused or all of it combined.

"Yeah," I say.

"Well, then... maybe—only if you want—maybe I could walk with you and Prim after school sometimes?" When he asks this question, he seems to have a hard time keeping eye contact with me. I smile, bigger this time. His awkwardness is amusing.

"Sure. That sounds good to me. I usually meet her outside Mrs. Greenwood's class, and we go from there."

"I know," he says softly. "I've seen you." I remember what Prim said earlier: I always see him watching you when we walk home from school.

"Oh. Well, you wanna come now? I'm sure she's waiting."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Let's go," I can tell he is excited and nervous, and it only causes another smile to turn up the corners of my mouth. I try not to think about Prim's reaction when she finds out that he's walking with us.

We turn down the hallway where Prim usually waits for me, and I spot her in the distance. I watch as her eyes shift from me to the anxious blond boy standing at my side. As we draw closer, a slight smile begins to appear on her little face. She knows something is going on.

Peeta is the first one to speak. "Hello, Primrose. I don't know if we have ever officially met before, but my name is—"

"Peeta. Peeta Mellark," Prim finishes for him. "I know who you are. I love your cakes. They are so beautiful. Oh, and I love your bread too. You're a really good baker."

At these words, I see the bashful side of the boy with the bread surface, "Thank you," he looks down at his feet as he says it. "I love doing it. It's kind of like an escape. I would paint if I could, but I don't have much time to spare, and I don't think my family could afford it."

"Wow. That's amazing. I wish I could paint. On cake or on paper," replies Prim with a hint of longing.

Smiling, I explain the situation, "Prim, Peeta is going to walk with us for a bit. Is that okay?"

"Sounds good to me! I would love to hear more about his cakes!" she says excitedly.

We begin our walk, out of the school and into the street.

Peeta continues the conversation with Prim, "Maybe I could teach you some time? To decorate cakes, I mean. You too, Katniss," his eyes meet mine, and my heart skips a beat.

Even in that brief moment, I recognize the look in his eyes. Longing. I am reminded that his feelings and intentions haven't changed. He wants me. He wants to know me and love me and be with me, and since my life includes Prim, he intends to include and care for her as well.

Fear sweeps over me. What if this is all wrong? What if me getting to know him only hurts him more? After all, I'm not entirely sure what my feelings are right now.

When I try to interpret my own feelings, the only thing I can come up with is that it's like I'm wandering in the woods with a blindfold over my eyes. I have no weapon to defend myself. I am exposed. Vulnerable. But the newness of it all is absolutely thrilling.

I remember Prim's words about loving people and taking risks for the sake of good, and I decide that her words apply to friendships as well. Besides, that is what we are after all: friends.

"That sounds fun, but I don't think I'd be very good at art," I respond shyly.

"Sure you are. Everyone's good at art, in their own way," he says smiling.

"We'll see."

"How 'bout we find out this Saturday? I would invite you to the bakery, but it'll still be open, and I don't know if it's such a good idea..." he says this with a look of thoughtfulness and concern.

I remember that day several years ago. The dandelion day. The day he saved my life and gave me hope with a loaf of bread.  As a result, his mother beat him for it.  I wince slightly as I remember the purple and blue bruise that marked his cheek the following day at school. I agree with Peeta; going to the bakery would probably not be the best idea.

To keep him from sinking too deeply into thoughts about his abusive mother, I reply, "I can ask if we could do it at our house. We don't have much to work with but it's a meeting place at least."

"That's perfect," he says, grinning. "I'll bring everything we'll need."

We pass through town. The bakery comes into view, yet he keeps walking.

"Aren't you going to head home?" I ask.

"Well—if it's alright with you—I would like to walk you both home." I glance over at Prim and make eye contact; she smiles and nods encouragingly.

"That's fine."

We continue to the other side of town and into the Seam. We talk about baking and art and our plans for this coming Saturday, and finally, we reach the Everdeen household.

Prim says goodbye to Peeta, shocks him with a sweet hug, and heads inside the house. I can tell she's excited to decorate cakes this weekend. Then, I turn to say my farewells, but before I can leave, he grabs my hand to pull me away from the door, closer to him. I'm paralyzed. It's like my dream, except this is real. My heart is about to burst. Heat consumes me. I can't speak. Or move. Or breathe.

"Before you go, I wanted to give this to you personally," he says as he reaches into his bag and pulls out a brown, wrapped bundle of bread.

"Peeta," I object.

"Take it. I made it for you. It's always for you," he insists. His eyes are deep blue and there is a firmness in them that tells me I won't win this battle. So I take it.

"Thank you," I say. I meet his eyes and watch them travel over my face. It's like he's trying to memorize me. Immediately, I become aware of our closeness and the electric current rippling between our bodies. Afraid of myself and what I might do if we remain in this position, I take a step back, toward the door. "It was good talking to you, Peeta. Thank you for everything." I try to communicate all of my appreciation for everything he has done through my eyes. Words aren't enough. He's done so much already. And I have a feeling he is never going to stop giving. I might as well stop keeping score. This is a war that I will never win.

With that, I turn to my door and enter my house. As I close the door, I watch him standing there through the narrowing crack between the doorframe and the edge of the door. Our gaze is not broken until there is no space left to see. When it clicks into place, I turn around, resting my back against the door, and exhale deeply.

Prim is sitting across the room grinning from ear to ear. I return the gesture. Suddenly, we both start giggling. I can't stop. I don't know what is happening to me, but it feels good. Really good.